One Day
by xXxVioletSkyxXx
Summary: Snippets into the lives of Harry Potter characters as they've come and gone- from every time period and every perspective. Read and Review!
1. Beyond the Veil

Beyond the Veil

Chapter One

by xXxVioletSkyxXx

…

 _Prompt:_

 _To say that Fred was confused was a bit of an understatement. The last thing he remembered was a wand aimed straight at him... followed by the briefest jolt of pain. Then nothing._

 _The last thing he expected to see when he opened his eyes were the smiling, peaceful faces of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, familiar and foreign all at once._

 _Behind them stood Harry, and he was about to holler when it dawned on him: (that's not Harry, Freddie)_

...

Fred remembered darkness.

The whole world was black: it was dark and cold. The floor beneath him was solid, but shivered as he did in the lowering temperatures, shivered in the cold.

There was a crumbled wall covering him, encasing him like a pharaoh in his tomb. There was dust, stale breath and nothing-ness in that place. Fred realized quite suddenly that he was completely alone, and he was scared.

Scared as any would be in the face of imminent death, but that didn't stop the fear from hitting him. He knew that he was going to die here.

It was getting harder to draw breath with every second that past. His body was limp and tired and cold, and he was in so much pain. He wanted to give up. Fred wanted to let go.

He felt his life, his will, his very self melting away. As he lay dying, random memories tugged at his subconsciousness- winning the House Cup in his third year, picking apples in the orchard around the Burrow, eating Chocolate Frogs with George. But as quick as they came they were gone, like feathers in the wind, unable to retrieve, relive or recover.

He remembered feeling crushed, the suffocating feeling of pressure on his body, encasing him- entombing him.

From the very start Fred knew he would die here. At Hogwarts, defending the people he loved.

He and George had joked once that if he died, he'd die on his feet, laughing. Dying with his best friend at his side.

He just didn't think it would end like this.

Nothing miraculous happened in the moments when Fred Weasley breathed his last, nothing lifesaving. The fragile string connecting his body to the earth snapped and he floated gently away.

...

Fred remembered what had happened at Hogwarts, being with George, fighting Death Eaters- watching out for Ginny and Ron and Angelina. Meeting up with Percy, laughing through his apology. He remembered a wall, the feeling of falling. Dying, with the ghost of his last laugh still on his lips.

He remembered this darkness, this nothing-ness. It was eerily familiar, like a dream he had once had but long since forgotten it. Like he had been in this place in another life, in another time, a long time ago when he was very small...

Eventually, very soon or perhaps a hundred years later, Fred landed gently on another floor in another place much the same as the previous one had been.

The feeling of wariness was back, as was the fleshy bread-like ground. He was okay, he felt like a boulder had been taken off his chest, like he could breathe deeply for the first time in ages.

Fred cracked open his eyes, feeling the grit and grime around the edges break off and tear, his eyes must've been closed for a long time. The sudden bright light of this strange place startled him, and he shut them in shock. When the black dots had dissipated, Fred opened them again; and this time the image was a little clearer.

He was in a large, white place. He couldn't see any walls or a ceiling above him, so he wasn't inside, but it didn't feel like his was outdoors either. It was as bright as a summers day- fresh and warm but there wasn't a direct light, it was coming from everywhere, all around him.

As he sat up, he smelt the air- if was a fresh sort of smell, like the first Quidditch match of the season. It smelt of mud and rain and upturned grass, of a certain sultry perfume that reminded him of Angelina.

Fred looked down, shocked but not embarrassed to note that he was naked, wand-less. He was alone, and he was dead. There was no room for embarrassment in either category.

But the breeze was cold on his bare skin, and as soon as he wished for something to wear, a t-shirt and a pair of trousers appeared quite suddenly on the ground beside him. He hastened to dress himself nonetheless, wary and confused as he was in this strange place.

Gravity wasn't the same here, and Fred panicked when tried to stand up only to stumble and fall. A reassuring hand caught him, brown haired and scarred, connected to a very familiar face. He wasn't alone after all. In this strange place, someone else was there with him.

"Professor?" Fred croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. He rubbed his eyes, but he was still there. Somehow, the whiteness of this strange place had bent, popping his old Defense teacher into being, appearing out of the fog into the space before him. Lupin looked well, his appearance much better than it had been in the past. Loads better than what Fred felt like. The wrinkles and grey hair were gone from Lupin's face, like ten years of suffering had melted off of his shoulders. Fred imagined that this is what Lupin would've looked like if he wasn't bitten, wasn't a werewolf. He wore a cardigan and a pair of jeans, his wand in his back pocket. His hands were stuck fast in his pockets, looking like more like a boy than a married father nearly forty years old.

"Oh, I'm not a professor anymore, Fred," Lupin said, smiling. "I'm just Remus here."

"Are you, am I...," Fred began, searching for the answer. A very particular four letter word stuck in his throat and his mind had failed him. For his whole life, Fred prized himself on being an expert of snappy punchlines and snarky remarks. He had built his whole life on humor, on making even the toughest situations funny and manageable by the manipulation of words. His words had never stumbled- he was a person who always knew what to say. But was he dead? Was Lupin? He couldn't remember very much from then. Not from his death. But he could remember every detail from his last day alive, so well it was almost as if his subconsciousness was urging him to truly live on the last day of his life.

He knew it was May second and overcast the second he woke up the same way he knew his name was Fred Weasley. He had had toast and kippers for breakfast- overripe watermelon and a cup of tea.

He and George had rebuilt their stock of Skiving Snackboxes that morning- hiding the materials in the attic because his mum had confiscated all of their Extendable Ears and Fanged Frisbees from Muriel's shed the day before. They were planning on furthering the shop's delivery system, owl order was not only unreliable, but also dangerous as birds were being shot down all the time. George suggested that they send it by Muggle post when Mum called them down to eat.

Mum made ham and potatoes for lunch- peaches in syrup for dessert. His aunt had knitted him a new hat, woolen since the snow still hadn't melted this far north. Ginny had begged once more to go visit Harry, Ron and Hermione at Shell Cottage only to get the news that they had left- were already gone when Bill and Fleur woke up. And then they'd broken into Gringotts and disappeared again on the back of a dragon according to Potter Watch. It was on the front cover of the Daily Prophet as well, the only useful information it's put out for a month.

George said he was in a right mind to pop in for a visit, but Muriel had hit him with her knitting needles and told him to mind his own.

The afternoon had dragged on for days by the time Molly told them to wash up for supper.

Fred followed his twin to the table, sat down. Nudged George's knee and told him to pass the rolls.

They had tea and cake that night (no one was particularly hungry waiting for news). Ginny had dumped hers in the bin, glared at Fred. She still hadn't forgiven him about the dragon.

It was way past sunset when Lee Jordan started Potter Watch. The whole family had crowded around the ancient wireless, straining for any piece of news about Harry, Ron and Hermione. Fred hadn't understood the message until Lee said it for the third time, Lightning had Struck: Harry was at Hogwarts!

Ginny said maybe they had escaped after all.

His mother had started crying immediately, lost in herself, unaware that her family was watching. His dad put a hand on her shoulder, the other on his heart. They were alive, that was all that mattered. They had made it out alive.

"Are Ron and Hermione with him?" George had shouted at the wireless. "Are they alive too?"

Unsurprisingly, it didn't answer. His dad smiled, a maniacal smile that lit up his whole face, a smile Fred hadn't seen since Bill and Fleur's wedding. They were alive. Harry made it to Hogwarts! They hadn't been killed at Gringotts after all. Whether they broke out on a dragon was an argument for another time.

They decided immediately to go back, the only problem being it's inaccessibility. Hogwarts was completely shut off except for the entrance in the Hogs Head pub, according the Neville, who had been using the passage to get news from the outside world. But it was Ginny who had found the door in the first place, back before she had been taken out of school and Luna had been kidnapped. She and Neville and Seamus had found it, a new exit, a window to the outside world.

Muriel said she was going to stay back, to mind Crookshanks and the owls. Nobody stopped her.

Arthur had gone first, holding fast to Ginny's hand. Then mum, then George.

"I'll be right behind, mate," Fred had said, hugging him quickly. "Or if you'd rather stay back and kip it with Muriel."

George smirked at him, jumped into the tiny fireplace and shouted, "the Hogs Head!" before he could throw back a witty remark.

It was Fred's turn.

He knew it was dangerous. He knew that he might die, (this could be serious business after all) that anyone could die. That Voldemort probably knew that Harry had been found and was after him. Anything could happen, but he was a good man for stress, and almost ready to launch himself in front of the Hogwarts Express for some action for a change. He was sick and tired of waiting around, doing nothing, saving nobody. He thought he was ready for anything.

Fred stepped into the hearth, threw the last bit of Floo Powder into the fire, shouting "the Hogs Head!" loud enough to wake the dead. He almost happy for the squashed feeling of traveling by Floo powder, for the sound of Muriel's shouting in the back of his mind. He was already out of the will, he may as well have some fun on the last night of his life.

Everyone was waiting for him when he arrived. The small bar was full, his own family was made it crowded enough, but there were others as well. Ginny whooped in delight when she spied Luna and Dean Thomas on the other side of the room, George was talking animatedly to Lee Jordan in the other. Cho Chang was keeping to herself, leaning against a table looking frail and weak, clutching her old enchanted Galleon from the DA like her life depended on it. Fred dusted off his trousers and stood elbow to elbow with George and Lee and Angelina.

Aberforth opened up the passage, its slimy interior and stale air breaking way for the excitement on the other end.

Ginny, now with renewed bravery and rebelliousness jumped up first, much to her parents chagrin. She was long gone before they could reach, and Dean and Luna went next, and Fred, George and Lee followed them straightway, happiness on their faces. For the first time in ten months, Fred would see his youngest brother again.

The rest of the night was a blur- Fred couldn't piece together a timeline, everything had happened so fast.

There was a battle strategy in the Room of Requirement, in the Great Hall. Ginny was left behind. Underaged kids were evacuated, anyone older than seventeen willing to fight were divided into groups. Even with Hogsmeade residents and other witches and wizards from the Order of the Phoenix, they numbered less than four hundred in all.

Then came war.

Death Eater and Dark creatures of all sorts flooded the grounds, spells of innumerable quantities lit up the air, blasting the shield charms away. It was dark by then, and Hogwarts was on fire.

Pieces of castle rained down on the courtyards and the grounds, pieces of stone the size of houses crushed Death Eaters and Order members alike, leveling massive amounts of land.

He remembered fighting, running- helping anyone he found. Acromantula's eating the bodies of the dead. He remembered blood flowing like water from bodies; kids falling, kids dying.

He saw spells flying, red and purple and green, and his wand moved on its own- on pure instinct more than anything- shooting jets of light in enemy direction. He took down a man in a black Death Eater cloak who was duelling Alicia, disarming him, binding him. Watched him fall from a stairwell, hit the bottom with a crunching finality he didn't think was possible.

Fred stopped after his umpteenth for spell, looked up. Saw the dead, the wounded, the dying. George's dirty and smudged face holding his hand, the only person alive in this alien landscape, this levelled world.

He watched in shock as as Colin Creevey; underaged, untrained, underestimated, get shot- not from a wand, but from a Muggle gun. A bullet, lodged in his chest. Dead. Another one was gone.

He saw Lavender falling off the balcony, an Auror collapsing under the torture curse.

And looking around, Fred was stunned into angry silence when he stopped to count the dead, because death isn't picky and even Death Eaters and murderers can die as men.

The four hundred were running out of options, running out of men.

The children of the front line didn't last the night.

...

It was horridly dusty the moment he died- hot beyond belief. He didn't remember that morning, the arguments, the elation of Harry's survival. The safety of his great aunt's house was miles and miles away. Hogwarts was in ruins. He and George were hiding behind a fallen wall- he was holding Angelina's hand.

Percy appeared, and the apologies flowed like water in the desert. There was a a laugh, a crash, a blinding flash of light. He had pushed George and Angie out of the way.

...

When he had closed his eyes, there was darkness at first. It was cold, he didn't know where he was, or what was happening. His breath was getting shallow, the pressure on top of him was crushing. He kept consciousness from the fact that at least George and Percy and Angie were okay.

He drew his last breath there, in Hogwarts, under stone and rock. Under a collapsed wall and among friends, among enemies. Died as his own in the castle he would always love.

And in that moment, his heart bent in half- he knew that it was the end.

Fred held onto reality like a loose balloon, sliding in and out of mind, reality slipping further and further out of his grasp. His heart stopped beating and he surrendered- his life was done, dead as a casualty of war, dead at twenty years old.

There was silence. Just silence for an eternity. The wall was gone, George was gone. He was alone and he was scared- the only one there.

There was the whooshing sound of moving at a great speed, held stationary as he soared forward, up and up until he felt like he could go no further.

...

Out of the whiteness of the bright white room, two others appeared besides him and Lupin, one first, then the other. The second was hidden in the fog out of sight.

Fred rubbed his eyes in bewilderment- completely caught unaware. It was all so strange, all these people were dead. They were long gone.

He hadn't been there when Sirius had died, but Ron had told him about it. Bellatrix Lestrange had killed him, and then he fell backwards into the veil.

Even now he didn't completely understand it; Sirius's body was never found. Harry was devestated, rightly so, too. His godfather was dead. There had been nothing left to bury.

As for Lupin, Fred hadn't known he was dead until now. He wondered where Tonks was, if she and the baby were still alive. He had known she was at a Hogwarts that night; he had been there when she came to the Room of Requirement. Despite how strong a person she was, Fred didn't think she could survive a blow that deep. Losing a child was one thing, but a husband was something else entirely. They were like one person, her and Lupin. Just like him and George.

But then again, here they were. Alive, more or less. They weren't ghosts, they could touch him, reach for him. Help him up and dust him off. They were whole and healthy; less gray and harried than he had ever seen them in life. They looked like they must've before the war hit. Before Voldemort had come and Harry's parents had died.

From behind Lupin and Sirius, Fred stared uncomprehending as Harry stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

Fred couldn't move, didn't dare too. Harry couldn't be dead, he would never surrender. He was too strong, too brave. He had too much to lose, the Boy Who Lived couldn't fall tonight.

But he did. And looking him in the eye, Fred noticed strange differences. His glasses were rectangular, not round. His eyes were hazel, not green and most importantly, he didn't have a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Sirius elbowed the Harry Potter look-a-like in the side, and he laughed, a hearty belly laugh that warmed Fred right to his core.

That's when he realized: that's not Harry, Freddie.

James Potter was young, younger than Fred had thought he was. He wasn't much older than him, not quite twenty-one. James had been married. He had had a son. He had died without a wand at twenty-one years old.

"This is him?" James said, turning to Sirius, "Fred Weasley? Molly and Arthur's son?"

"One of the twins," Remus answered. "Uncanny the resemblance he has to Fabian, eh?"

"He's the one who found the map?" James persisted, looking fascinated.

"What map?" Fred said, his voice scratchy.

James and Sirius turned to him,

"Our map," Sirius said, "the Marauders Map. You prat, why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't think it was important," Fred said, his voice sounding watery and strange, "George was the one who found it."

George. How could he have forgotten his twin so quickly?

In all the time that he's been here, he hadn't thought of him once.

Fred wondered how he was doing, if he was still alive. How mum and Angelina are, if they had taken away the body yet. Fred didn't even know if the war was over. How many other people had died?

Fred was dead; at least he thought he was. This place definitely wasn't in Hogwarts, no one was fighting. He turned around frantically, praying his brother wasn't going to show up, be dead like he was. One loss was enough to throw a family off its hinges.

Fred thought about Percy, about his apology, about their first laugh together since they were kids being his last. He wondered if he blamed himself. Fred wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, tell him that death was nobody's fault- sometimes it comes even when you thought it couldn't.

He felt the ground beneath his feet, it was warm and soft, cool like fresh mud; he was barefooted. It felt like the garden at the Burrow, in April when the snow had just melted and the whole world was soft. Like soil and grass and water between his toes, the smell of upturned dirt and snow mould- it smelt like springtime. The air had a cool breeze, and oddly enough, smelt faintly of gunpowder. George had always thought it smelled like excitement, and even though it was a Muggle invention, it could still do pretty neat things. He turned around to tell him, only to remember he wasn't there. There was no one called George Weasley here.

...

There were three friends. Death and all it brings. Newness, at the very least. The old self was long gone.

There was an end, and a beginning.

James Potter and Remus and Sirius, armed with smiles and welcoming words. A hand up, a grin.

"Nice to meet you Fred," James said, patting him on the back. Pulling him in for a hug. "I'm James, Harry's dad."

"You look like him," Fred said, it was the first thing that came to mind, his head was still ringing. "Harry's my youngest brothers best friend."

"He died tonight, my son," James said bitterly. "We were summoned," he nodded to Sirius and Remus. "Lily too. We went with him when he was walking to his death."

"He-he surrendered?" Fred said, abashed. "He died? It's done?"

Sirius shook his head. "We don't know, mate. We saw him, he was ready to die. He was ready to lay down his life. But he didn't come through like you did,"

"Hermione and Ron were with him, they were- they were on the run all year, running away from Snatchers on a mission from Dumbledore. He couldn't have- he couldn't have died."

James shook his head sadly. "He was ready to sacrifice himself so that others could live, Fred. We don't know what happened, or if there are other Places such as this one. All we know is that he used the Resurrection Stone to bring us to him for comfort before he died.

"But Fred, we didn't come here for them. We were sent here for you,"

"For me?" he said.

"You're a fighter, Fred," James continued. "You died with honour, defending your friends. You don't have many ghosts, but you did have us. So we've come for you, to see you On,"

"Where?"

Sirius smiled, "Onwards of course. To the next life. We've been waiting for you."

From behind James, another figure appeared, young, youthful with long red hair and piercing green eyes. She smiled kindly at him, smoothed his forehead and took her place beside her husband.

"Onwards now, Fred. Surrender, it's not much further now."

Fred looked around, took an unsteady breath and stepped toward what he imagined the source of the light- the passage Onwards. The others followed closely behind him, Lily's hand still on his shoulder, her friends by her side. Fred continued walking, feeling the baggage of his short life melt off of him like ice in the summertime, leaving him with nothing but his best memories, his favourite experiences.

The light enveloped him like a warm embrace, and he went Onwards gladly, into the next.

….

It took a while to think about the logistics of Limbo. From the prompt, I obviously wanted Remus and Sirius to be there, and it fit so seamlessly for James and Lily to be present as they were passing through Limbo after Harry's surrender in the forest. Remus, having died in the first round of fighting, would've been passing through just the same as Fred was. And I like to think that just the same as Dumbledore "stayed behind" in Limbo for Harry, Sirius too waited for his friend to return before Passing On together into the next.

Thank you for reading,

Violet Sky


	2. Into the Open Air

Into the Open Air

Marauder Era: March 1980

A short montage featuring a sunrise, a terrified James Potter and a twelve year old American muscle car.

…

You could run away

take everything you own

and be gone before the rising sun

Hop in your car

turn your radio on

singing songs like we're singing along.

When the morning comes,

you'll be so far gone

wish I would've got the chance to say:

That if you never come back,

I just want you to know:

I'm gonna love you either way.

-Rising Sun, Prince of Spain.

...

It was barely dawn.

The sun was hidden behind the mountaintops, and the stars and the full moon were shining brightly in the windswept sky. James Potter turned the key and pulled open the door of the '68 Camaro and stepped outside, leaning on the open door with his head between his arms. He was exhausted, having driven through the night on spotty mountain roads and a full mind.

He looked back into the cab expecting to hear Sirius crawling out, damning the cold and the light and the lack of cigarettes, dazed and maybe a little hungover, Peter asleep in the backseat, snoring as usual, wearing that ratty Star Wars t-shirt he always does and rumpled jeans- Remus listening to his favourite Muggle mixtape and silent, one headphone out looking at the sky. And if he was lucky, Lily would be there too, snuggled in the front bench between Sirius and him, fast asleep, her jumper ridden up, lipstick smudged. Smiling in her sleep like she's keeping a secret.

He expected that and more, he expected the Marauders to squint at the rundown lookout in the middle of nowhere, ask him why they drove through the night to watch the sunrise when they hadn't been up this early since seventh year. Ask him why he left his sleeping wife in their bed and took off without her, without telling her why.

But there's no sound, no friends; not on this outlook. Not on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere. No friends in the cab with a word of advise for James Potter when he needs it the most.

He scuffs the toe of his boot on the gravel, pushing and drawing mindlessly, watching the grey skies with mild appreciation. He remembers this, the sight of the tall spruces below and all around him, the scent of their freshness, their wholeness. The sight of sparrows overhead, calling and dipping and sliding in neatly to the top of a branch, the taste of the wild on his lips. Mountain faces held the light of the new dawn even though he couldn't see it yet.

James closed the door to the cab and crunched down the worn path, stepping over tree roots and rocks, shoved the hand that wasn't holding his half-empty coffee in his pocket and tucked his chin under his collar as a fierce early morning breeze blew past him, blowing dust and pine needles through the air and off the cliff past the lookout. James stepped off the path and onto the platform of worn wood, the stain peeling in places, and framed his hands on the rail.

His fingers itched to light a cigarette, he hadn't smoked since seventh year- stopped the habit because Lily's grandfather had died of lung cancer the year before and she hated the very word, and the effects it could have on another person she loved. So he fumbled with his hair instead, cracked his knuckles. Magically refilled and reheated the petrol station coffee he had bought three hours ago and popped open the lid.

He opened his eyes and was stunned by what he saw- the sharpness of the air, the brightest blue of the sky above him. Took in a breath of clean air and got drunk on it, the champagne-like feeling caught in his senses.

He remembered the rough wood of the rail, the small benches and interlocking graffiti that tied the lot together. Couples had proposed on that floor lined with pine needles, dogs and children had lined their noses on the littlest rail (the highest one they could reach), sniffing the air and giggling. Fathers had come here with their sons, a kite under his arm and a ball in his back pocket, holding his hand so he doesn't run away.

James smiled sadly at the memory, and sat down on a bench with a resoluteness that wasn't akin to him. So much had changed in the past year. He was no longer James Potter the troublemaker, James Potter the heartbreaker. He was nineteen years old almost twenty, just married to the love of his life in the smallest wedding in history, in a tiny chapel in France because they were always in danger. Less than twenty people were there to eat the gigantic cake Mrs. Evans had baked, but not his parents, not his mum and dad. They were already gone, dead from dragons pox and buried in the graveyard in Godic's Hollow.

James hadn't given Lily the wedding she deserved, he knew that. He knew that she deserved to have all of her friends and family there, a gigantic poofy dress and a party that would go on until sunrise the next day. But he also knew that she understood, and that war means compromise and sometimes even the happiest times can be dampened by the fear that surrounded them.

The death of his parents had knocked perspective into him in the worst way possible- the truth that parents aren't exempt from death, from pain. There end will come too, even and especially when one imagined it couldn't.

James had only met Lily's parents a couple of times, and her dad had died when Lily was eighteen. So even though he hated doing it, he asked her mother instead, begging forgiveness for his lack of tact, for his lack of time. He had an Order mission with Fabian that night, he couldn't be late, couldn't miss the opportunity to make his world a little safer for his new family.

James walked over to the rail slowly, breathing deeply as the cool morning wind washed over him, filling his senses with pine and water and the sharp scent of a roaring fire. He had gone camping here with his dad when he was younger, pitched a tent in this field, lied awake watching these stars, held his father's hands as he was helped up to sit on the topmost rail with his back against his father's chest. He remembered it all- the memories pure, untainted.

This was the first time he had been back since Charlus had died.

He gripped the worn wood and looked up over the horizon, his muscles taut, stretched in stress and fatigue.

"Dad?" He whispered. He looked behind him quickly, but was disappointed. This was the closest he had felt to his father since he had died, the closest connection to him in these childhood memories. He was himself here, it was always just Dad and James. He didn't know how to do this alone.

"Dad, if you can hear me, I need you right now. I-I made a mistake,"

James looked down, feeling the telltale prickle of tears behind his eyes. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes and stared straight ahead, and let words flow like water.

"I did it dad, I did it all. I married her- Lily Evans. I married her, not knowing what tomorrow could hold. I could die any moment, she could too. There isn't time or rightness of mind for marriage in war,"

James looked down suddenly, feeling the first tear since his parents funeral skip down his cheek, landing resolutely on his locked fingers.

"She's pregnant dad, having a baby because of me. I don't- I don't know what to do. I can't keep them safe- she's always in danger. I'm so scared that's she'll get hurt or lost or tortured, I can't lose her, dad. Not now. Not after all we've been through. We've already lost so many friends, I can't imagine life without her. She's the reason I get up in the morning, the last thing I see at night. She's the person I want to talk to when life doesn't make sense, the only one who understands that I'm not brave enough to be courageous all the time- not strong enough to watch friends die without doing something about it. I'm only nineteen, dad- I owe everything to you. I'd give anything to have you back again- you always knew what to do. But she's pregnant dad, what now? How do I protect her now?"

James shook silently as he cried, put his head in his hands because he's only _nineteen_ for gods sake. Nineteen is too young to be scared for your life, too young to be an orphan and a husband and a father. Too young to be an adult, he was nineteen years old and he was already running. But Lily was his wife and she was pregnant with their child. It was time to step up, he had made a promise to her, to them. She was scared too, he realized. Even she didn't have everything together.

"I'd die for her, dad. For her and the baby. For Sirius, for Peter, for Lupin. They've been there for me the whole time."

(Then why are you running, James?)

James looked down, feeling ashamed. He was running. Running from his problems because laughing it off was easier than facing it. It was easier to be a Marauder than it was to be a husband, to be a father. Easier to live a life of no responsibilities when his life raced forward on full speed unaware of what the next turn could hold. Of what this pregnancy meant, what it was to be married to Lily Evans after all these years.

He needed to be brave. To be strong. For Lily and their baby, whom he knew needed it too. And as much as James thought he needed his father now, he hadn't gone very far after all. He was still alive in him, in James, in the places they had been together and the memories they had made. His legacy wasn't gone when there were still people who loved him.

So James rose, stood on the lookout and saluted the sunrise, walked back to the Camaro with a smile on his face for the long drive back home.

...


End file.
